On the Brink of Insanity
by Jen - King of the Bamboos
Summary: They say even the toughest can break. Then what about the gentlest nation of them all?
1. Prologue: Break

**Hello everyone again! This is Jen - King of the Bamboo once more. I'm here with a new story idea of mine that I got after getting hooked on APH. So anyways...**

**WARNING: This story does NOT follow the APH storyline (Does it even really have one?). It has many nations going OOC and most of the time, using their HUMAN names. Very angsty and dark. With quite a bit of Matthew-bashing, though he's my favorite nation. No pairings.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own APH or any of these characters. I only toy with them to suit my own purposes, though the plot and the story itself belongs to me.**

**Enjoy~! Matthew Williams/Canada-centric  
**

* * *

Pain. His mind could only register pain. The pain coursing through his running legs, tightening his heaving chest, pulsing at the center of his head. And fear. Such a freezing fear, sending every fibre of his body into panic mode. The need to get away as fast as possible.

"You can't escape from me, Mattie~!" A voice. A sickeningly sweet voice. It sounded so familiar, but his mind refused to connect it to a face. "No matter how much you run, you'll never escape from me~!"

"NO!! STAY AWAY FROM ME!!!"

"Aw, don't be like that, Mattie. Poor Mattie. Cute little doll you may be, but that doesn't mean much in your situation, right? Tired of being ignored? Aw, what a sad, sad fate."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

"Am I really all that scary? Aw, you hurt my feelings. Just like how your fellow nations always hurt yours.

"S-SHUT UP!" Ball. He had to curl up in a ball. He would feel better. Safer from the rest of the Earth, where he could quietly cry to himself and-

"Did I hit a nerve? Is that a touchy subject for you? My, what a sensitive boy you are. What a sensitive cry-baby you are."

Mocking. The voice was mocking him. He was used to jeers already, for a long time, so why… Why did that hurt? He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything. The pain, all he could focus was the pain, the words the mocking voice threw at him. No, he can't listen to the voice; it would hurt him even more. He had get back up and run. Must run away from the voice. Arthur and Alfred and Francis were disappearing further into the light. Must catch up to the light, since they won't wait, must not be left in the looming darkness…

"Isn't that right, Mattie? Poor little Mattie always gets left behind. Poor little Mattie always gets ignored. Never acknowledged, never given a single thought. Did it hurt when your so-called family forgot your birthday again? Did it hurt that after Alfred left, all Arthur would talk about is how much he misses that idiot brother of yours? Did it hurt when Francis let Arthur take you away? DID IT!?"

"S-Stop it…"

"Weak little Matthew. I almost feel sorry for you. To be neglected, year after year, keeping a small bit hope for nothing except to break your little heart a bit more every single time you are overlooked. Almost makes you think that you are, perhaps…"

"Stop it."

"Worthless? No, that doesn't quite fit. Pathetic maybe?"

"Stop it! I don't wanna listen to you anymore! L-leave me alone!"

"But isn't that right? After all, to the other nations, you _are_ quite pathetic. A waste of time to associate with. Isn't that the reason you are always alone?"

"T-That's not true!"

"It's not true?" A short, cruel laugh, echoing through the vast emptiness of this nothingness…

It's not true, it's not true. He isn't like that at all. He's just shy. Don't listen, don't listen. It doesn't matter. It's okay even if he is always alone, and no, those aren't tears at all, he's not crying. It's not true, not true at all…

"_You are nothing_," hissed the voice, sounding suddenly threatening and enraged. "_Nothing_."

"N-No. That's not true. I'm not nothing. That….that's-"

A chuckle. That silenced him immediately, making him fear what would be next.

"Oh dear little Matthew. Unfortunate little soul. Didn't I teach you to not trust anyone?"

He couldn't breathe anymore. His head pounded and his heart hurt. With all this pain, he couldn't think straight anymore. Suddenly two ghostly arms appeared, encircling him. No, he had to get away, _and get those damned arms off of him_…

"Don't be scared, Mattie. I only want to help."

Tight. Too tight. Those arms were way too tight. Must escape. Must-

"It hurts, doesn't it? Being isolated from the rest of the world, watching them having the time of their selfish lives, while you remain shut in your little tower, your little prison. It saddens you to see them having fun without you, doesn't it?"

"N-No, I-"

"You can try lie to yourself, to delude yourself into believing you're happy when you're not. You can try, but it'll never work. Time to wake up, Mattie. Time to wake up into the real world and see how deep you've fallen."

"I…I'm not sad…I'm not lonely at all…I-"

"It's okay to be afraid, Mattie. After all, I'm still with you. We don't need anybody else. It'll be just you…" Tighter. The arms were growing tighter!!! "And me. I'll protect you from everyone, Mattie." His feelings were changing...What...?

Sleepy. He was so tired already. The phantom embrace felt nice. So nice. So warm and secure. His head stopped hurting. The pain. The pain was fading.

"I…I-"

"Take a nap, Mattie. You've been abused for so long. All will be better when you wake up. Just let me guide you, and everything will be all right."

"O-Okay… But…Who…Who are you?"

A triumphant, sadistic laugh. But he couldn't care anymore, he felt so relaxed, so much better than he had in years, he just wanted to follow that voice and do what he was told, that he missed it and everything that went after…Sleep was calling to him. "Silly. I am you. The dark, insane part of you. The part that want revenge. So sleep. Sleep while I use our body to do the Master's bidding. Sleep, _Canada_."

And darkness overtook his world.

* * *

**Wow. That might've been a little confusing, but only because it was Mattie-centric. Chapter one won't be like that at all. Don't worry, it'll make sense in the future (I hope). I also think it's going a little too fast. Oh well. Was it any good? I'd like to know, so if you feel like it, please press that little green button right under here and do me a favour of commenting so that I can make my stories better. Thankies!**

**Next up: Introducing Francis/France, Alfred/America/US and Arthur/England/UK and their family bond!  
**

**Cheers~!**


	2. Chapter 1: Missing

**Wowie, so many people liked it. Thanks to all of you who read it, then either reviewed or added this fic to your favourite/story alert list (or maybe all three)! That makes little me very happy.**

**So anyways, appearance of Mattie's family! Minus one Seychelles, Hong Kong, Australia and Sealand. But it's okay, they're not _that_ close to Mattie. Btw, I'm not gonna retype the disclaimer for every chapter, it's too annoying. In case of doubt, please refer to the one located in the prologue. And no Mattie in this chapter.  
**

**WARNINGS: Swearing, possibly (most likely) confusing materiel, French words (with glossary at the end) and pretty short chapter (I think), as well as the warnings from the previous chapter. Oh yeah, FRANCIS DROPS HIS "H"s AND REPLACES THEM WITH APOSTROPHES JUST IN CASE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT HE'S SAYING! There.  
**

**Well, enjoy~!  
**

* * *

_Slam._

"Mattie! ARE YOU THERE MATTIE???"

A tall figure rushed in through the now open door. His short blond hair glistened with perspiration; even the one cow-lick strand that always stuck up flopped down with exertion. Fear and panic were evident on his face, and his whole body shook with the effort of running up 13 flights of stairs without stopping even once.

"Mattie! Oh god, Mattie, say something!" The surprisingly loud shout rang eerily in the otherwise silent house. "Mattie, where are you? Answer me! It's me! Mattie, it's Al!"

No reply. All was quiet, the stillness of the place disturbed only by the heavy panting of the figure.

Alfred F. Jones, also known as America by his people, felt sick. His beloved baby brother was missing. The other nation was last seen at the G8 meeting, but all but vanished right after. Not that many countries would have been aware; Canada was reputed to be one of the least noticed nations. But something happened. Every single nation –even the ones not in the G8– had felt something bad happen. Something painful and akin to torture. It was as if a part of them had been cruelly ripped out, torn right out of their bodies. After a roll call, only one person was missing: Matthew Williams.

Alfred's eyes quickly scanned the gigantic room. There was nobody. No one at all. He raised a shaky hand to his mouth, speaking into the walkie-talkie. "Mattie's house, clear."

---

"What do you mean, he's not there!? Did you search the whole damn house?!" yelled a man with a distinct British accent, hands almost breaking the hand-held device he spoke into.

"_Exactly what I said! I searched the entire fucking house, with all its 13 floors and I don't know how many fucking rooms, at least 3 times each, okay? HE'S JUST NOT FUCKING THERE, you slow-minded nitwit!_"

"Don't use that kind of language with me, you bloody git!" spat the Brit. "I did not raise you to talk like that. You behave yourself right this instant you-"

"Arthur, focus on the problem at 'and! And don't be so 'arsh on the children! It's not Alfred's fault that Matthieu disappeared!" interrupted another blond man.

"Shut up you damned French bastard! Hey, give me the phone back! Hey-!"

"Mon cher Alfred, I am sorry for your father's be'aviour. 'E didn't mean it."

A sigh on the other end. "_…I know. But I'm really stressed out right now, Francis, and Arthur's yelling isn't making it any better._"

"We all are, mon enfant. Please keep searching. Matthieu might be at his boss' place now."

"'_Kay. Bye Papa._"_ Click._

"What was that for, you frog?" demanded Arthur as soon as Francis turned his attention back to him.

The French nation frowned. "Arthur Kirkland, you did not 'ave to take out your frustration on Alfred. That was not fair of you. This 'ole business is stressing out everyone, not just you."

"He's my son! My own son is missing and injured in god knows where and we don't even have one single lead on who the bloody hell took him! I have a right to be angry!" seethed Arthur.

Francis' eyes softened. "'E's my son too, Arthur. We are all worried about little Matthieu. Just try to calm down, and we'll go through the list again."

"That stupid list doesn't work. Alfred's gone to every single one of these place but he still can't find Matthew!" cried the British nation. "Goddamn! Where the bloody hell could he be? My son, my precious son…"

Francis put a comforting hand around the crying man's shoulders. "Matthieu is a strong boy. 'E'll be okay. 'E 'as to be okay."

"How do you fucking know that? Did you feel the-"

"Yes. I did. We all did." The Frenchman cut off again. He really did not want talk about that bout of intense pain, and said so as much. "Now, you focus on writing more places while I go ask around Mattie's country with Alfred."

"Ha. Mattie _is_ his own country. And he's currently missing." snorted Arthur.

Francis forced on a strained smile. "You know what I mean. En plus, puisque Matthieu's country is still fine, seulement un peu instable, then 'e's still alive. At least we can take rassurance in that. "

"I'll murder the guy who did this to Matthew…"

Francis' eyes narrowed icily. "Yes, Arthur. We will…"

---

"Did you get what I wanted?"

"Do you even need to ask? Of course I did."

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe we shouldn't be doing this…"

"It was your own idea, idiot. Since we already started the plan, might as well see it through."

"Fine." A pause. "I just feel so sorry for Matthew. If they just…Ugh, never mind."

"You're not the only one. If they just paid attention to what lay under their nose, we wouldn't have to be doing this."

"Yeah… Well, better hurry up. Wouldn't want Alfred to catch us. He's still in the area, you know."

"That idiot has the brain of a 3-year-old. He'll probably just think we're the garbage men or something… You done yet?"

"Almost." Silence. "So, do you think Matthew's insanity is contagious? I wouldn't want to be caught doing that kind of stuff."

"Just shut up and finish your damn part. We're not supposed to be discussing this. Do you know what would happen if somebody overhears us? _He_ would kill us!"

"Fine, be that way. I just hope they figure it out soon."

"Yeah. Me too."

* * *

Translation:

-mon cher = my dear

-mon enfant = my child

-en plus = also

-puisque = since

-seulement un peu instable = only a little unstable

-rassurance = reassurance

**I still think that went way too fast. Lol, I have a knack of doing that. Sorry for making Francis and Arthur insult each other, I really have nothing against them. Or their people. And I'm not trying to make them seem gay. It's just that they're both kinda fatherly towards the North Americans, so Alfred just _has_ to call Francis "papa" too, right? And Francis is out of character because he's so worried about his missing "son".**

**I actually _had_ both chapter 1 and 2 typed and ready, but I just kept finding more and more stuff to add, so you only get this. Lol, I feel so evil.  
**

**Now that's over and done with, please comment on my second chapter! And kindly point out anything you didn't like as well as suggestions. I greatly thank my beta Kazuki-kun is an A and an A.**

**Next up: Introducing Roderich (Austria) and Wang Yao (China) and their "discovery"!**

**Cheers~!  
**


	3. Chapter 2: Realization

**Hello peeps once again! I apologize to anyone who waited and waited for taking so long. My internet doesn't always work in China, and there were communication problems with my beta. Not that it's his fault, oh no!**

**Anyways, here's chapter 2, where several nation-tans will be introduced with a glossary at the end, because I personally find this less confusing (to those who are not really familiar with APH). Still no Mattie here, well, no conscious Mattie.**

**WARNINGS: A slightly longer chapter, lots of French, and warnings from previous chapters still apply. Replies to reviews will be at the end because I'm too lazy (XP), though it's a one time thing because it adds unnecessary length to the story. Lol, I don't think that made sense.  
**

* * *

"Make way! Make way!"

There was a murmur, a collective gasp, heard throughout the crowd as it parted for the strange procession. At the front was an angry Alfred, shouting at any nation who blocked his way, followed by an indifferent Ivan Braginsky carrying a bloody bundle in his arms, flanked by two worried Francis and Arthur, with Roderich and Wang Yao who both had grave expressions closing the rear. The gathered crowd shifted around hesitantly, not sure what to make of this.

"West, what the hell is going on?" asked Gilbert, personification of what was once known as Prussia.

"I don't know. Looks like whatever America has been looking for, he found it," his brother Ludwig replied.

"Hey, why's Russia with them? I thought Russia and America didn't get along at all. Same with France and England," someone pointed out.

"брат, what are you carrying? Why aren't you carrying me? Don't you love me?" yelled out Natalia, only to be ignored by Ivan.

The little quartet hurried their way without explaining, quickly disappearing into the distance. The remaining nations still stood there, minds turning for the meaning of this odd sight, until one by one, they regained their senses and left. Finally, only Feliks was left, who seemed to come to a realization.

"Hey, wasn't that like, totally Canada?"

---

"He isn't waking up! Why isn't he waking up!?"

"Calm down, Arthur. You don't really know that. Maybe Austria is talking to 'im right now, but we wouldn't know since the door is closed."

"Then how come they're not coming out?! It's been more than 5 hours since they first went in!"

"I don't know. Austria said 'e was 'urt very bad, so 'e needs to rest pour que son body 'eals."

A fist slammed down unto a nearby night table, startling the two nations. "I want the both of you to shut up if you're just going to argue instead of thinking why your son is in critical condition."

"You shouldn't be so loud. Besides, who taught you how to-" Arthur started protesting, but then quickly did as he was told after a swift glare from Alfred.

The former colony took his head in his hands. "I don't understand it. Why? Why did he do that? I thought I was there for him, but now I know I obviously was not. Why…Why didn't he say anything? Why didn't he tell us what went wrong? Did we hurt him that much? Was there really so much distance between us? I… I can't believe this. I failed him as a brother…"

His companions looked down in shame. Francis spoke first. "Mon fils, you are not the only one who was wrong. I…I too am to blame. I keep telling Matthieu 'ow précieux 'e was to me, but I never go visit 'im."

"Damn, what did we do wrong? He always looked like it didn't bother him, so why now? What happened to our Matthew?"

The three men sat together in silence. For once, they did not bicker like usual. A door opened, making them look up to see Roderich and Wang Yao step into of the room.

Arthur rushed to his feet. "Austria. How is he? Is my son okay?" he pressed the tired-looking nation.

The other sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "We have managed to stabilize Canada's physical condition. He lost a lot of blood, but the transfers that we got from America are remedying that problem. Otherwise, he seems perfectly fine. We just have to wait till he decides to wake up."

The Englishman stared in confusion. "What do you mean, till he decides to wake up? Won't he wake up naturally?"

The pseudo-doctor shared a look with his companion. "China would probably be more knowledgeable. I'll let him answer that."

Three pairs of eyes immediately turned to said man. Wang Yao sat down on a nearby chair. "Austria isn't a perfect doctor, but from my experience and his…_training_…we have decided that Canada is still sleeping not because of his wounds, but because he doesn't want to wake up, aru."

"Quoi? Que veux-tu dire? Il ne veut point se réveiller?"

"What the hell do you mean, he doesn't want to wake up? Why wouldn't he want to wake up? You know what? I bet it's your fault, French bastard."

"Quoi? 'Ow dare you accuse _me_ of causing Matthieu to want to sleep? Maudit Anglais! Tu es fou!"

"Then why won't he wake up, you bloody git?"

Alfred groaned at the loud voices of his fathers arguing and sank further into his seat. Wang Yao, however, merely raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not done yet, aru." He interrupted, "Because Canada's country is still functioning perfectly well, aru, we assumed that it's a personal problem, aru."

"Which means…?" prompted Arthur, gesturing wildly.

The Chinese man subtlely rolled his eyes. "In other words," he continued, "it's not Canada who is unwell, aru. It's Matthew Williams."

---

"Is the poison working yet?"

"I don't know. I'm not the poison expert. But according to _him_, it should be taking effect in about now."

"But I don't see any difference. Are you sure _he_ said it works after 30 minutes?"

"Yes I am! Now shut up! If Braginsky did what he was supposed to do, which I assure you he did, everything should begin moving according to the plan."

"…Maybe Roderich found out about it…"

"It doesn't matter whether he did or not. It'll appear like any normal harmless bacteria. Besides, once it's in, it's not coming out no matter what you do unless you're _him_."

"You sound so sure about all of this…"

"I am. Now shut up and keep watching till Matthew wakes up."

"Okay…"

---

The second the words left his mouth, the room exploded.

"Are you telling me that my son has a problem!? Oh I assure you, oh wise one, that he has none whatsoever you-"

"Normalement, je serais respectueux envers les plus âgés, mais ceci est ridicule!"

"-son of a I-don't-even-know-anymore, just how dare you say that Matthew is mentally disabled, you good-for-nothing old quack-"

"Je ne te permets point de parler derrière le dos de mon fils, monsieur, et je te suggère de prendre son condition sérieusement-"

"-you should just give up and say you don't know anything and tell us the truth about Matthew, old man-"

"-non, mais tu plaisantes? Je ne trouve cette blague guère amusante, monsieur-"

"I bet this is all your fault you French bastard!!!"

"Ma faute? _MA FAUTE!?_ Mais tu es sérieusement fou! Quoi, as-tu perdu quelques cellules de ton cerveau imaginaire? _Je parie que c'est la tienne, maudit Anglais!_"

"SHUT UP!"

The two nations jumped at the loud shout. Alfred was up on his feet, seething dangerously. His eyes were narrowed and flashing with extreme anger. His teeth were gritted tightly, and his nails dug painfully into the tender flesh of his exposed (and now bleeding) palms. All in all, Alfred was furious.

"If it weren't for you two always arguing instead of focusing on what you had to do, we would've found Mattie at least a week earlier, and maybe not in such dangerous condition!" shouted the American nation. "And now that we have a clue as to what the fucking hell happened, all you two can do is bitch like the idiots you are! Is Mattie that unimportant to you? Is your son's life that insignificant in your fucking eyes that you'd rather be fighting each other than to worry over him? IS IT!?"

If looks could kill, around 2% of the world population more or less would be gone. The enraged nation gave his fathers one last murderous glare before sitting back down, wiping the blood on his pants. "If you truly value Mattie's existence, then shut the hell up and listen to China explain the fucking problem. Leave if you can't handle being quiet."

"Thank you, America," said Wang Yao. "Now that I may finally speak, aru, I think the three of you should have a talk. Since you are his closest family, it would only be logical that you are responsible for knowing or finding out what is going on in each others' lives, and consequently, what happened to Canada's."

The Chinese nation glanced around the room, finding that none of them, with the exception of Roderich who was sleeping after the long night, dared meet his gaze. He sighed, not liking what he was about to say next. The room would probably once again explode into shouting, though this time with 1 extra voice, and demanding for explanations he was not ready to give instead of intense arguing.

"I'm sure none of us has felt that Canada's truly back, aru, just like I'm sure none of you have experienced this feeling before. Though the first in this generation, Canada is certainly not the first one, aru, nor the last, to catch 健忘. It is an ancient Chinese phrase meaning forgetfulness. This, aru, means that Canada has finally lost it, and become insane."

* * *

Characters/Countries:

-Matthew "Mattie" Williams = Canada

-Alfred "Al" F. Jones = America/US

-Arthur Kirkland = England/UK

-Francis Bonnefoy = France

-Ivan Braginsky = Russia

-Roderich Edelstein = Austria

-Wang Yao = China

-Gilbert "East" Weillschmidt = former Prussia

-Ludwig "West" NoLastName= Germany

-Natalia Alfroskaya = Belarus

-Feliks Łukasiewicz = Poland

Foreign words/phrases:

-брат = Brother

-pour que son = so that his

-mon fils = my son

-précieux = precious

-Quoi? = What?

-Que veux-tu dire? = What are you meaning to say? / What are you saying? / What do you mean?

-Il ne veut point se réveiller? = He doesn't want to wake up?

-Maudit Anglais. Tu es fou! = Damned English. You're crazy!

-Normalement, je serais respectueux envers les âgés, mais ceci est ridicule! = Normally, I would respect the elders, but this is ridiculous!

-Je ne te permets point de parler derrière le dos de mon fils, monsieur, et je te suggère de prendre son condition sérieusement- = I do (will/did) not allow you to talk behind my son's back, sir, and I suggest you take his condition seriously-

-non mais tu plaisantes? = -no but you're kidding me?

-Je ne trouve cette blague guère amusante, monsieur- = I do not find this joke funny at all, sir-

-Ma faute? = My fault?

-Mais tu es sérieusement fou! = But you're seriously crazy!

-Quoi, as-tu perdu quelques cellules de ton cerveau imaginaire? = What, did you lose a few imaginary brain cells?

-Je parie que c'est la tienne, maudit Anglais! = I bet it's yours (your fault), you damned English!

**Yay ****update! I put the 2% because I added both France and England's population then divided it by world population. I dunno if that's correct. Also, to those who know Chinese, I know 健忘 is an adjective, but my Chinese sucks, and nobody from my family understands the heck I'm saying, so I couldn't find anything else that sounds (looks) right. To those who know French: J'ai toujours imaginé Francis comme le type de personne qui utiliserait le registre soutenu, mais puisqu'il est tellement stressé dans ce cas, il utiliserait le registre courrant au lieu. Ack, I hate writing French in "registre courant"; I grew up using "registre familier".**

**This chapter is finally over! I'd say it wasn't as good as the previous two with the exception of that last fight between Iggy and Francis. ****Please comment and tell me how this was so that I may improve!  
**

**Next up: Canada unleashes his fury and introducing Dark!Canada's thoughts!  
**

**Cheers~!  
**


	4. Remembrance Day Intermission Pause

**Hello everyone again. At 5am.  
**

**First of all, I'm sorry that it took so long. School has started and, I know it's no excuse****, but my computer crashed. I didn't lose the files. Rather, I wasn't able to type it. And if you understand/have read ****Mood Indigo**** by William Matthews, my "It" has briefly come back.**

**Also, I know I promised chapter 3 of OtBoI, but I haven't finished typing it yet, and I needed to post a tribute in honour of Remembrance Day. Chapter 3 should be up in a few days, but no promises since I've been helping teach kindergarten/grade 1 kids.  
**

**Warnings: Reference to WWI and WWII.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the poem (or song version) "Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep".**

* * *

It's been a month.

It's not nearly enough time to prepare. It's not nearly enough time to harden his soft heart at the sight of those neat white crosses, rows upon rows, each with its own rusting plaque, marked by withering blossoms and poppies. It's not nearly enough time to be able to gaze at the field visited everyday without painfully remembering each death he felt, each life he sensed slowly slipping away.

He hesitantly fingered the red plastic flower decoration over his heart. It reminded him of the past, the fatal wound he himself had received not some sixty or ninety years ago.

'_They're waiting for you…'_

He knew. He knew what each of them had thought at the moment of their death. He knew the dreams they had lost, the pain they had felt, the wish they had made. That they hoped they didn't die in vain; that they had done the right thing.

"I can never repay them."

'_They don't need you to. They're grateful to have been able to serve you, fight alongside you.'_

"They never knew it was me. They died not knowing."

'_They know now.'_

"They'll never be able to forgive me."

'_Do not stand at my grave, and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep.'_

He knew that song too. He remembered listening to numerous choirs teaching the poem, finding each performance more heartbreaking , more overwhelming, than the last.

'_They're waiting. They were, are, and will always be your human friends. Isn't it time you showed them how much they meant, and still mean, to you?'_

He raised his eyes to that little white wooden door, staying silent and still for a moment. Then, the first few words of the McCrae poem forming on his lips, he opened it, and entered the vine-covered arc, a bouquet of fresh flowers clutched in his hands.

* * *

**I got nothin'.**

**If you'd like, search up that song in YouTube. I especially love the Libera version of it, though I performed a different one at CISMF that I like equally. Please, everybody, wear your poppies and respect all the veterans, soldiers and dead who sacrificed and/or are sacrificing their lives for us. It would mean so much to them. Go on YouTube for the song In Flanders Fields: .com/watch?v=BsOsdGtBBTg**

**For those of you who don't get it, this takes place a month after Dark!Canada has taken over, without dominating the body yet. The italics are thoughts of his other side. Because, in my headcanon, although it's Dark!Canada, they're still his people.  
**

**Happy Remembrance Day, everyone. RIP all those who have died. Thank you to all those back from war. Bless all those still out there in the battlefields.  
**


	5. Chapter 3: Delirium

**HELLO PEEPS!!!**

**Sorry for the long wait (for those of you who did). Thank you for waiting (for those of you who did). This here is the 4641 words that you have been promised! And delayed! And repromised!**

**And yes, Mattie's finally starting to crack. A little bit. (The real crazy thing, what most of you have really been waiting for, is reserved for next chapter. Boo, another long wait.) And I would like to point out that because of his mental instability, he cannot remember all the good times he had.**

**THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME! I would like to use this opportunity to thank 2 special people. Dear Kazu-chan, where will I (or rather this) be without you? Thank you for not minding all those chainmails and jinxing each other on MSN. Also, bitter green tea, thank you forever for pointing out all those mistakes. You were absolutely right! (Does that mean I should rate this M now?)**

**WARNINGS: VERY LONG THING! Entirely italicized paragraphs represent whatever shenanigans that are going on in Mattie's head (meaning: separate timeline, separate situations, and generally don't do much, except provide thoughts and unnecessary foreshadowing). A bit of insult to ancient treatment of the Aboriginal people, but I just wanted to represent the way they were referred to back in the days. VERY DIALOGUE-HEAVY!**

**Enjoy~!

* * *

**

_He dreamed._

_He dreamed about his land, his people. His mountains, plains, forests. His animals, insects, plants and trees. He dreamed of his f_amil_y, having a small picnic with him in one of his favourite clearing. Arthur handed him burnt scones on a plate, Francis cut him a slice of maple cake, and Alfred busied himself with wrapping a ribbon around a box. Kumajirou snuggled into his lap, and all were wishing him happy birthday. It made him so happy to see them finally remember him for who he is._

_He smiled, but it was only a dream._

---

Matthew awoke to bright sunlight filtering through the open blinds and the smell of fresh flowers, with the comforting presence of Kumajirou weighting on his stomach. It was the normal start of another new day. A flash of gold caught his eyes. Even without Québec, the Canadian recognized the sleeping form of Alfred half sitting in a nearby chair and half slumped over the bed. Matthew smiled, feeling nostalgic.

He sat up, threading his fingers gently between the soft strands of his brother's hair and listening to the birds outside singing. He felt light enough to fly.

"Ngh…"

The Northern nation turned towards Alfred as the latter started waking up. "Morning, Al."

Blue eyes slowly blinked open, and a sleepy smile found its way towards his brother's face. "Morning, Mattie."

Both yawned simultaneously, then cracked a few joints in synchronisation, a common routine between the two of them.

"Man, my neck hurts like hell," complained his brother as the superpower cracked it. "Ah, much better."

And it was so Alfred that Matthew giggled lightly. It had been so long since they last woke up together, since they last smiled at each other sincerely and light-heartedly, that he couldn't help tearing up a bit. Alfred noticed.

Just as his brother was about to comment, mainly to joke about him being a cry-baby, Arthur burst into the room and furiously shouted, "About goddamn time you wake up. What the hell were you thinking, trying to kill yourself!?"

Matthew suddenly didn't feel so light anymore.

---

_He was drinking tea again. With what could only be described as a second him._

"_I woke up with Al by my side today," he said, taking a sip of his tea. When the other him remained silent, he continued. "It was nice. I haven't woken up that happy in a long time. And I definitely hadn't seen Al that happy with me in a long time too. For a while, everything seemed to be alright."_

_He gave a short bitter laugh. The other him made no movements._

"_Then Arthur came in and-"_

"_Hush." He was immediately embraced by his reflection, and felt tears beginning to prick their way to his eyes. "Let me take your place now. I'll handle this part. You just rest while I take care of the trouble they've caused. Don't mind them, they're not worth it."_

"_No…" He found himself saying softly over and over again, though he just wanted to scream. Scream and make his voice be heard, scream and make them understand. But they weren't there with him, and his voice was growing weaker and weaker. "No…" he repeated like a mantra._

"_I'll wait for you. But remember, they're not worth it."_

_ With that, the other him disappeared, and despite giving out promises that he wouldn't ever be alone again, he was still the only one left in that big empty garden._

---

"What the hell were you thinking, trying to kill yourself!?"

Silence followed. Alfred looked back in his direction, a hard glint in his eyes that wasn't there before.

"That's right," the American started slowly, with just a hint of threat in his tone. "Why were you bleeding alone in that back alley over 2 months ago? Why were you in that Commie bastard's country that day?"

Matthew said nothing, his gaze downwards. The room began to spin slightly; the stares his family gave him kept him nervous and crushed his nerves. He looked through the door his father-figure had left open, and saw Francis sleeping in one of the two chairs left in the hallway.

"Well, Mattie?" Alfred hissed uncharacteristically, startling the Canadian enough for the latter to jump slightly and fearfully look up again.

"Why do you ask?" The reply was so soft the superpower almost didn't hear it.

"What?"

"I said, 'Why do you ask?'" The northern nation repeated louder, defiant.

A disbelieving stare was all he received from his brother. It was all he needed to know. Too bad he didn't consider it true.

"Why do we ask?" Arthur all but shouted, unnecessarily answering for Alfred. "We ask because we care about you, dammit!"

Matthew was astonished, a wary expression still on his face. _'They…actually cared? They're not making this up?'_ He re-examined his family. His father and brother both had noticeably dark shadows under their eyes, their clothes rumpled and their hair unbrushed. It seemed like they hadn't slept in a week. He looked back to his hallway, where Francis was still sleeping despite all the noise, and the stiff, uncomfortable chair he sat on.

'_Did they really mean that? That they cared?'_

He felt something slide down his cheek, and gingerly touched the area with his fingers. They came away wet.

'_I…I'm crying…I'm crying…I…'_

He felt warm again. Maybe they really did care. Maybe he wasn't as alone as he was lead to believe. Maybe his dream had finally coming true. He opened his mouth to apologize for being so guarded and cautious around his family. But then he remembered…

The gentle bubble that flickered in his chest abruptly grew harder.

'_I can't believe it…'_

---

Watching his son cry was never a pleasant experience.

He remembered back to the days where Matthew had only been a colony, and cried as a result of being taken away from the wine bastard. He remembered the days the infant would cry, of hurt, boredom, hunger, or occasionally of Alfred just being mean. That was tolerable, because it was natural.

But now, his beloved colony-turned-nation was crying again, without even realizing it, and that wasn't natural. It made him feel guilty, ashamed, and for a few seconds, he looked away, unable to meet those kind green-violet-blue eyes. After all those years of trying to do a better job raising the Canadian than he did with Alfred, where did he go wrong? Was he really that negligent with his affections to be mistaken as having none? He knew the answer.

"I don't believe you."

Arthur blinked, shocked. "What did you say?"

"Don't play stupid with me, _father_. You know fully well what I said."

He stared. "Now now, Matthew. Don't use that tone with me. You're probably still confused after that hit to your head."

"Don't you dare dictate to me my own feelings, you bastard."

"Matthew, I am not dictating to you! You should take a rest, you're still a bit dazed after being asleep for so long, which might explain the reason you're talking nonsense. Did you wake dreaming from that day –"

"Don't try to delude yourself, Arthur. I've had enough of your lies. I know exactly what happened to me that day, and what happened there was part of _your fault_."

"I had nothing to do with any of it, and you –"

"Shut up."

He frowned deeply. Where was all this coming from? "I thought I raised you better than to –"

"I told you to shut up! I'm fucking sick of hearing you talk like you're better than anyone else! I'm sick of hearing you spout lies day after day after day! I'm sick of you always comparing me to you or to Alfred every single time something goes wrong! _I'm just fucking sick of you!_"

He hadn't known that words could cut so deep. Now he did.

---

If someone told Alfred that one day, his younger-but-maybe-older brother would snap, he'd have laughed in their face then secretly call the northern nation to make sure Matthew didn't go crazy.

But this. He never expected this. He watched in misplaced detachment as his brother showed his rarely seen bitter side and swore at their father-figure. He watched as Arthur reeled from the shock, tears misting the Briton's eyes, and Francis waking up from all the noises and shouting going on. Things seemed to be slowing down, blurring from his view, the room dizzyingly turning around, sound seemed to cease, and for a moment, everything came to a stop.

Then all at once, Arthur brushed past him, running out of the room, and time resumed its usual course, albeit a bit too quickly for the American. Subconsciously hearing Francis catching and comforting Arthur, he gradually, unknowingly, approached his seething brother.

"Why," he began, incomprehensive. "Why did you say that? Why would you say that?"

Then Matthew faced him, the rage subsiding to let the grief and betrayal underneath show on his tear-stricken face. The centuries-old eyes spoke without words the pain endured, staring right at him, the tears flowing freely, as if each drop could somehow take away that very pain. Alfred felt his heart wrench at the sight.

"What do you know?" His twin, his other half, whispered in broken voice that swiftly rose in pitch and intensity. "What do you know about how I feel? What do you know about it all!?"

He took a step back, taken aback by the sudden ferocity.

"You were never there when I needed you! Those lonely nights when I cried for someone, just someone, to notice me, you were the closest person I had, but you were never there! You call yourself a hero, but you're never aware of the little things that really need help! You were the reason why I cried as a colony, why I had to hurt myself day by day as each soldier I send off the their death dies because of a stupid war you started, that you dragged me into! And you didn't even know!"

"You never told me," he rebutted, trying to defend himself, but the comment went ignored.

"Everyday I'm mistaken for you. Everyday I receive scathing comments and bruising hits because I look like you. Everyday I'm forced to cover and take blame for every mistake that you did. And just when I feel like I can't take it anymore, when I try to call up my so-called family, I realize it doesn't matter, because none of you care! None of you care enough to know me, to wish me happy birthday, to just remember my fucking existence!"

"I remembe-"

"The others all say I suck, because I'm not as cool, as confident, or as creative as you. I'm always forced to walk in your shadow, because you wouldn't let anyone else, not even your own brother, be greater than you. And even though we live right beside each other, our people mingle on a daily basis, and we are each other's biggest trading partner, you don't know shit about me!"

"Stop it!" he cried out. Feeling his brother calm down, he continued. "It's enough. I've heard enough. I'm sorry!"

The look he was given stung like he had been stabbed. He never knew his brother to be capable of such venomous ones. There were a lot of things he never knew about his northern neighbour.

"I used to have nightmares every single time I tried to sleep," the other said simply, viciously, "because I was afraid one day I would really cease to exist, since that's how all of you made me feel. Invisible, inexistent. I would wait for hours on end, hoping that you would show up for my birthday, that at least you remembered, but there was never so much as a call. And when I did make some friends, all you did was to chase them off, saying that I didn't need anyone else but you, when you were hardly, if ever, there!"

There was a sudden pause as the Canadian stopped; his eyes turned blank and gazed right through him, shakily wrapping his bandaged arms around his thin frame, as if remembering, trying to protect himself from a horrible memory.

"I called your cell the day I got attacked in that alley. I called you but you wouldn't answer. It was my mistake. You never answered my call."

"I thought… I didn't mean to-"

"It hurt so much, Al. You wouldn't know half the things they did to me. It had hurt so much! I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move, I couldn't even think of how to save myself, because all I could focus on was the pain, that you were supposed come save me, the blows coming on me over and over and over again!"

Matthew closed his eyes, and his hands left his arms to clutch at his head. Alfred found himself at a loss for words. What could he say? What could he say to make his brother feel better?

"I trusted you," said the Canadian, "because I thought you'd keep that stupid promise you had once made. But you didn't, and I kept hoping, stupidly, and I never realised that you never really cared about my whereabouts, and I just couldn't, didn't, know what you were doing instead of saving me, and my mind got messed up from all the hits, and everything got so loud I couldn't think, and god, Alfred, where were you?"

The rant finally came on to an end. The stillness irked the American, as he discovered a new side of his brother, as he discovered the wrong he did, trying to find something to say to ease his brother, to fix what he had done wrong.

"I… I…"

The look his brother gave him successfully shut him up. It was not one of anger, or even one of betrayal. It was one of disappointment, of loneliness.

"I thought I meant something to you," was what was said.

_Now I know better_, was the unspoken thought.

He watched as his brother's features turned harsh, then stray away from him.

"Leave."

He panicked. "But Mattie-"

"Leave, America." The use of his nation name made him stop in his steps and his blood run cold. "Though the border shall remain intact, the trading the same, you are no longer welcome in my house."

Alfred swallowed back his own tears with difficulty. Mattie has cut of their personal ties by dropping the use of his human name.

"As you leave, please bring England and France with you. They too are no longer welcome."

The American could not feel himself again. He turned on his heels and left, feeling hollow and empty, disbelieving, not seeing his brother hate himself for those cruel words, not hearing his brother say, "I give up. I can't take this anymore."

Not knowing what it was that his brother truly wanted him to do; not knowing what he truly did.

---

"_He left."_

_He was crying again. Always crying, always being so pathetic. No wonder he was always being ignored._

"_He didn't even stop to consider what I just said. He just fucking left! He didn't even say goodbye!"_

_The other him rubbed his back gently, in vain._

"_I can't take it anymore! I can't bloody take all this anymore!"_

_He gave in. He was so damn weak, so damn useless._

"_I just can't take it anymore…"_

_The other him wrapped his arms around him, hugging him in a way that reminded him of Alfred. "I won't let them hurt you anymore," the other him murmured. "I won't let them take advantage of your forgiving heart again. Just trust in me, and sleep. Everything will be okay."_

_He let those promises flow over him like lullabies Francis used to sing to him as a colony, and closed his eyes. For once, he felt safe, safe like his brother's embrace, and warm like Arthur's tea. For a moment, as he fell asleep, maybe for the last time, he felt at peace._

---

They hadn't seen each other in months.

"Oh. Good morning, America."

The tone of cold politeness shredded any hope he had that they were still close.

"Mattie…" But his brother had already broken from his grip and vanished down the hallway, not even sparing him a glance.

He kept looking on, even as the footsteps dimmed to nothing and he was alone, even as his hand pulsed with pain from the force his brother had used to get away. He kept looking down that hallway, wishing, hoping, that the other would come back. Waiting, waiting the way Matthew had done so for him: in vain.

---

Francis poked his head through his room door. "Matthieu?"

"Hello France."

"Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, chéri?"

"France, is there a specific reason you feel the need to interrupt my work or are you just here to play doctor?"

"Matthieu, stacking cards on top of each other to form a castle is not called working."

"Only if you look at it that way, Papa-" Sudden silence. "I mean, I could very well be mentally managing various governmental issues, France. That is none of your concerns."

The french bastard smiled. "Just like Arthur. Oh Matthieu, what did I do to deserve this fate-"

"Everything, you-"

"Now tell me. What is it that made you isolate your 'uman self from us? What is it that you told Arthur and Alfred to make them upset to the point they chase after you during free time?"

"I told them every one of their faults and inabilities to associate themselves with me."

"Mon fils, ce n'était pas nécessaire."

"Yes it bloody was! They always treat me like shit, like I don't bloody exist! Because of Alfr-America nobody knew me, and I became nothing. Because of England, I…Well you should know as well, since you've been with him for who knows how long."

"Oui, mais ce n'est pas une excuse de les traiter de cette façon!"

"Are you taking their sides?"

"What are you talking abo-"

"Are you not agreeing with the way I opened their eyes?"

"It wasn't the sensible thing to do!"

"Sensible, they were blind! America was so busy admiring himself he ignores all the important issue! England is always drowning his sorrows with alcohol! It was time for them to see that there's a third party that had always been with them, waiting to be acknowledged!"

"Oui, but it isn't the bonne thing to do! You could 'ave been a lot less 'arsh, and maybe explain to them what they did wrong, and suggest 'ow to correct their problems, instead of just telling-"

"France, leave my room."

"Wha-"

"Leave!"

---

_Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror, he wanted to scream and tear and claw the figure reflected back at him. Most of the time, he just ended up with a bleeding broken fist and shattered glass panes. After the first few times, narrowly escaping the janitors and staff members and other countries, he decided to avoid them altogether._

_He couldn't stand those haunted eyes that were an odd mix of blue, green and violet._

_He couldn't stand that hair, a cross between wavy and straight._

_He couldn't stand that mouth stuck in a frown and a smile at the same time._

_That person shown in the mirror shouldn't be him. He wasn't a dead man that came back to life. He wasn't supposed to have those dark circles under his eyes, eyes that looked like there were two consciousnesses instead of one, eyes that told the truth he tried to hide. He surely didn't have a crazed face where smiles became frowns and scowls turned into tears and lies distorted reality, as if there were opposing forces tearing at him. He was nothing like that man in the mirror._

_That man wasn't him._

---

The next time they meet, he forgot all the good happenings in his life and became the beast he felt inside.

"Matthieu!"

He ignored the call.

"Matthieu! Mais arrêtes-toi s'il te plaît!" Francis caught up. "Mais qu'est-ce que tu as? Je t'ai bien demandé de t'arrêter!"

He gave the Frenchman a dead look. "Ça me tentait pas. Laisse-moi tranquille."

He was grabbed by the shoulder almost immediately, turning him round to face his former father.

"What do you want?" He asked, irritated.

Francis must have not noticed the switch in language coinciding with the change in mood. "You brother was asking for you after the meeting."

"I know he did," he snarled back. "I avoided him for a reason."

His comeback was disregarded. "Arthur was asking for you too. 'e cried for you every night. I could hear him through the walls. Neither of them would tell me anything, but I know enough that you need to apologize."

"Does it look like I care?"

"Matthieu! Even if they've done something to you, saying what you've said was unacceptable. They're still your family!"

"Yeah, a great family they were! Just like you. In fact, I'm not surprised at your familial ties, considering that you're all the same."

He could see the disbelief in those blue eyes. It brought anger as he realized Francis would never understand by himself.

"Matthieu…" A warning tone.

His lips curled cruelly; an expression meant to mock while resembling a smile. "Say, France, have you ever thought about why I've distanced myself from all of you? Why I don't want to see any of you?"

"…Why?"

"Ignorant, just as I thought. Maybe next time I debate whether or not to stop associating myself with you fools, I should quit second-guessing and actually listen to myself." With that, he moved to brush past, but something prevented him from doing so. "What the hell is it with people grabbing me today?"

"Do not use such offensive words while speaking, garçon. You 'ave no right to insult or treat others this way. And concerning your little problems-"

"They're not little problems, you fucking bastard!"

"Et n'essaie pas ma patience, j'ai été assez raisonnable avec toi durant tes périodes de sauvagerie et désobéissance-"

"Don't you dare call my people savages!"

"I am more knowledgeable and experienced and I know the right thing to do-"

"So giving me away is the right thing to do? Looking out for yourself just to save your sorry ass is the right thing to do? Trampling on hurt men was the right thing to do? You ass-!"

A slap resounded sharply. "Tu oses utiliser de tels mots dans ma présence? De parler de cette façon à ton père?"

"You dare lecture and try to discipline me and call yourself father after all that you've done?" He hissed back in English, holding his stinging cheek.

"I colonized you! 'elped you start off your ungrateful little life!"

"And I paid you back in money and loyalty and beaver fur and blood, at the expense of my people! I never asked for you to butt in my land and rewrite my history and identity. I never asked you to take on the role as a father!"

"'ow dare you say such things-"

"You know," he said, his tone suddenly – and disturbingly – pleasant, "I find it funny how you always rush to your own defence without checking out the facts first."

"De quoi-"

"You don't deserve calling yourself my father. You never cared."

"'ow-"

"You gave me away. To England, of all people. And decided to keep Saint-Pierre-et-Miquelon."

"Matthieu, you know I 'ad to! If-"

"I had to endure his poison food, his oppressing presence and his language. But I'm glad you didn't keep me."

"What?"

He glared, narrowing his spiteful eyes. "You were going to sell me to my brother, just like you sold Louise. But England got to me first. And you planned on getting back Louise after you got Alfred to rely on you instead. Unfortunately for you, he was too strong for that."

"You're-"

"You never tried to get me back; you just lost interest in me. The way England did too, since America was just so interesting. I was just a background figure, not important enough to be top priority, but just right to be a second thought. The little nagging voice in your head that you always ignore."

"That's ridiculous!"

"And you used both me and my brother to suit your own purposes, to fight against England. All the time. You were never satisfied with just you fighting, about what you fought over, were you?"

"No-"

"Remember Québec? You tried to take Pierre away, to make him rebel and run away after I tried to help ease your fights and bring peace. You knew Pierre wasn't ready yet, but you still encouraged him. _'Vive le Québec libre!'_ you said to him, in front of me. Just because I didn't agree with you and England's actions. Thank you for all those sleepless nights full of worry and extreme migraines of having opposing sides just tear at me. I enjoyed them oh so very much."

He took a step back, then two, all the while trying to murder Francis with his eyes.

"Matthi-"

"Please don't come bother me again, _France_. Next time I won't be so against using violence."

He left, still smiling, with the satisfaction of seeing Francis' appalled and dejected face, hand still held to his cheek. His grin widened a little too much as rush came down and all that was left was a hollow, empty husk.

'_I hope they can now remember me…Because now I'm definitely worth remembering…'_

No one saw the crazed look on his face.

No one saw the way his eyes unconsciously screamed. Screamed for help; for someone to take away the pain.

---

_"How are you enjoying things so far?"_

_Why was he always drinking tea here? Why were they always in that empty garden, where he felt his mind unravel and his thoughts stray away?_

_'Why was nothing going the way he thought they should?' He tried to voice his thoughts. He found himself unable to speak._

_The other him just laughed. "Hush. I know what you want. I know your fears, questions, uncertainties. You don't need to tell me. I am, after all, you. And just like for me, I only want the best. This is necessary."_

_Why was hurting them necessary? Why was hurting everyday necessary?_

_I'll make everything better, _he_ had said. Why wasn't everything getting better already?_

_What was _he_ planning?_

---

Yekaterina found him sitting idly on the top of the staircase. "Матвій?"

Matthew jumped, startled, and slipped down a few stairs. He turned to see the Ukrainian offering him her hand, which he casually brushed off, then got up and dusted his suit nervously.

"Katyusha! Sorry, I wasn't aware of your presence. I-I think I'll leave now."

"Wait, Матвій," she said, grabbing his arms before he could walk off. "Where are you going?"

"I-I have some things I need to take care of, f-for my boss. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Матвій, please, tell me what's wrong. Why are you so upset?"

"Katyusha…I wish I could explain, I really do! It's just…nothing's going right at the moment, and I'm stressed and feeling under the weather. I know it's not bad here, but back home… I just…"

A long and heavy sigh. Was that all he could manage while _he_ was asleep?

"Матвій, I wish you'd open up to me more. You know I'm always willing to listen whenever you need me to."

He saw the disappointed and hurt look on her face. He saw the way her thoughts concentrated on him, and only him (_'unlike those conceited bastards'_) and looked down in shame. "I can't tell you."

"Матвій…"

He could never say no to her. "Alright. But… You won't like it."

"Try me. What's wrong?"

"I think I might be going insane."

* * *

Characters/Countries:

Louise = Louisiana (not a country)

Pierre = Québec (province)

Katyusha (also known as Yekaterina) = Ukraine

Матвій = Ukrainian equivalent of Matthew (apparently); pronounced Matvey (apparently)

Translation:

Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas, chéri? = What's wrong, dear/darling?

Mon fils, ce n'était pas nécessaire. = My son, that wasn't necessary.

Oui, mais ce n'est pas une excuse de les traiter de cette façon! = Yes, but that's not an excuse to treat them that way!

Oui = Yes

Bonne = Good

Mais arrêtes-toi s'il te plaît! = But please stop! (Lit: But stop yourself please!)

Mais qu'est-ce que tu as? Je t'ai bien demandé de t'arrêter! = But what's wrong with you?/What's gotten into you? I asked you to stop!

Ça me tentait pas. Laisse-moi tranquille. = I didn't feel like it. Leave me alone.

Garçon = Boy

Et n'essaie pas ma patience, j'ai été assez raisonnable avec toi durant tes périodes de sauvagerie et désobéissance- = And don't try my patience, I have been reasonable enough with you during your periods of savagery and disobedience-

Tu oses utiliser de tels mots dans ma présence? De parler de cette façon à ton père? = You dare use such words in my presence? To talk in this way to your father?

De quoi- = What- (Meant to be: De quoi parles-tu? = What are you talking about?)

'_Vive le Québec libre!'_ = "Long live free Québec!" (Statement as said by former French President Charles De Gaulle.)

**Alright, most of you are probably tired of my existence and my procrastination's existence. I am deeply sorry. Does anyone else like exams? I also lost Mr. USB key (again). BUT, let's be happy!**

**Cheers~!**


End file.
